


Pencils

by sunlightsmarrow



Category: Inception
Genre: Fluff, Implied Masturbation, Library, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlightsmarrow/pseuds/sunlightsmarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur tries to study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pencils

The gnarled pencil was threaded between Arthur's thin fingers. He chewed on the eraser and quietly flipped the page of _Catch-22_. The book was one of his favorites and he was writing an analysis on it 'for a class,' he had said, but in reality because he had gotten all of his other reading done and he had no where to go over Thanksgiving break. Many people were studying for finals and Arthur had that next on his list after he finished his chapter. 

He twirled the pencil expertly and tucked it behind his ear. 

"Mind if I borrow that?" A larger guy whipped the pencil from behind the other's ear and left a small scratch where the metal as overly chewed. Arthur hissed and bit back a curse. His hand flew up to his ear and came back with a little blood. 

"Just what--" Arthur whirled and found a monstrous individual before him. He had some books tucked under his arm but the porn tucked between the pages did not escape Arthur's perception. 

A large "SHH!" came from the rest of the students studying and Arthur blushed. Eames, as Arthur had observed by what was written on the pages of the mostly-new books, lifted a beefy finger to his lips and cocked an eyebrow, mocking the slighter boy and the overly-conscious group of students. Arthur sized him up. He was about the same height but much more muscular (or at least his muscles showed up more. Arthur was lean.). He'd most likely lose in a fight fight, but Arthur could assume that he had the advantage of being agile and more quick. 

But it was just a pencil. 

"May I have that back, please?" 

To add insult to injury, Eames put the pencil in his mouth and began chomping away at it. Arthur stared, appalled. Eames started off and Arthur rose to chase him. He wasn't going to be treated like that by someone whom he had just met. In the back copying room, Eames sat down next to a coffee maker and cracked a book open: Calculus. So he wasn't as much of an oaf as Arthur had immediately assumed from his insolence. 

"What are you doing here?" 

Eames looked up, almost startled, and gave Arthur a shit-eating grin. "Well, I know we've met before. I've been sitting next to you in American Lit for about a week and half and I don't think you've once looked at me, which is surprising. I mean, look at me!"

And to Arthur's dismay, he found his eyes traveling down the well-built body of the man in front of him. 'Why am I doing this?' he asked himself. I would have been awkward just to leave, so Arthur leaned against the door post and crossed his legs and arms and flexed what he had. His nice clothes (vest, tie, all of those things that not even a well-dress professor would wear) hugged his toned frame and as far as he could tell he was toying with the idea that maybe he wanted Eames (if that was really his name) to look at him and realize that he wasn't some scrawny sophomore but a decently-built junior. 

"A preening of feathers, darling?" Eames chuckled and gently set his stolen pencil on the table. "I won't lie and say I'm not impressed. You are quite pretty." 

Arthur gaped. All of this for a pencil? He blinked and stood a little straighter and to his full height. 

"What are you doing here?" He repeated. His voice did a poor job of hiding his discomfort. He kicked himself. 

"Studying," replied the bigger guy with a low, curious tone. "And I'm learning quite a lot." His eyes glittered and Arthur wanted to throw something. 

"Okay. Keep the damn pencil." Arthur was getting out of there before anything became more awkward for him. He gathered up his things and went to the lounge of the sciences building to finish his tasks. Studying would have to come later.

 

Later that evening, that body and those eyes flashed into his brain while he took a shower. He then scratched behind his ear and re-opened the scab. A smell of cologne came from it and Arthur had to think of all of Poe's writings to keep himself under control. It had turned out that that was Arthur's last pencil. What an ass.


End file.
